lost in office corridors that appear endless that stretch on for miles through unchartered architectural plans

meeting rooms with projectors wide screen tele-conferences with people in countries, other latitudes
a foreign dialling code,
where the currency is colourful
but worthless like the unwanted child

like the spam emails.
And thats where they found him,
in these corridors, hunched and crumpled, waiting on memories of pilgrims
tight rope walkers
the findings of an audit
DNA tests from bone fragments

hunched and crumpled
writing his memoirs on stolen stationary
the first line read – I HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF A WASTED LIFE




  1. multiplemichael

    in the office corridor they asked me to please move out of the shade
    if you must sleep you must not be in the shade
    shade is demon spit like honey is bee spit
    abstractions exist at the workplace
    I wanted to tell you about the inferior needles I found hidden in your office
    I know that you purchased them……….paperwork lad
    you hid them and forgot about them
    the needles were inferior and it was very evident to the naked eye
    the jagged needle holes were hell on expensive thread
    the points were blunt and this caused undue pressure
    you knew you would have to replace them too frequently
    this would make a great disharmony
    you hid the needles and you told yourself that you no longer remembered
    did you commit the foulest crime ?
    are you guilty of other horrid acts ?
    sleep sometimes comes a shade sadder
    it is impossible to exaggerate the number of men ruined
    the tyrant unwanted baby
    you said spam emails but I heard sperm whales
    I thought of your spouse chained to the infant wedge
    the rivets from childbirth cause chaff
    no more fire to be snatched
    groans wailings woe and misery
    love is no longer a quest but an ordeal
    concealment because of the genital rivets
    rivets or thorns ?


  2. multiplemichael

    the first line read – I HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF A WASTED LIFE
    birthday boy blotted from the calendar
    the small creature inside the dark opening says, “I will slay you”
    the thing greatly feared has come
    not the thrust thrust sting come
    rather the burden of self-pity
    duty-bound at the office
    nails brads screws tacks
    your compulsion for self-justification
    an audit within numbers the lesser distress
    decorative push pins under constant scrutiny
    raw materials hammered into plastic push pins
    each one with its own sound effect
    back and forth pause back and forth
    ornaments stuck to the ribs of the Antichrist
    your alibi is dirty with atrophy


  3. eatmorewords

    abstractions exist at the workplace plastic plants grow in corners heavy with the dust of your tears wasted minutes marked off on promotional calendars –
    free tea vending machines we are solent green
    in lunch hours failed attempts to type poetic words sandwich crumbs fall between the keys
    the insects feed on waste – the growth of bacteria – the forgotten needles in cabinets where you have to sign for the keys –have to leave a deposit – fragments of your sould, skin graft from elbow, p

    forged signatures you to take on alternative personalities – a misheard word – sell becomes cell – becomes sail becomes hell –

    and in different guises different crimes are committed – two places at once and when your called to account for whereabouts
    to produce alibis
    your eye straining to see the self pity of personality one
    as the dominant voice takes over –
    propels you down the corridor again – wanted posters of unwanted babies

    its my birthday in five days repeated like mantra
    quell the eruptions
    – log off-


  4. multiplemichael

    psychic sex scars exist at the workplace
    straitjacket employers who get nervous when they see all the push pins in your wall
    you have become the Bonnie and Clyde of push pins
    surrounding the family with murder
    endless pages of testimony pinned to the wall
    photos of witnesses with circumstantial evidence on their faces
    minor Peter North guilt a winter scene of frosty jism
    endowed globs for the tennis racket of justice
    boyhood deprivations moral and mental
    skeleton arms holding tight no warmth in those hands
    to do wrong for the sake of wrong
    unnameable feelings about repulsive temptation
    the chamber door the poetic backdoor
    the plastic plants excite you
    they are a symbol for contempt/dissatisfaction
    your bingo hall clergyman hides behind them and touches selfishness
    he works a new twist into his old thread
    how little how late
    bingo fortune hunting accumulation implying power
    a more attractive bingo with possibly bigger rewards
    an entire congregation to seduce
    going brown in Hyannis
    sodomy in Massachusetts


    • eatmorewords

      the pins the pins the pins again
      there is no escaping their persuasive perfection
      string wrapped around pins
      a spider web of clues all point in one direction – future people will google Peter Norths name and laugh at his sweaty exploits –

      creating unfair myths of human exploits -you landed on the moon but can’t draw a perfect circle they will say

      millions spent designing pens that write in space – use a pen laughed Stalins offspring

      tanks will roll through this office
      mortars will bury this bingo hall

      amongst the rubble the scars will heal – in time
      time gives you distance from the rips in the new thread distance from the testimonies
      and the cramped hand of the stenographer will offer no relief tonight


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